Generate a Stand-Up Routine

[Intro – walking on stage, waving to the audience]
Hey, everybody! How’re you doing tonight? Good? Awesome. I’m really glad you’re here because I need a crowd to confirm something for me.

[Pause]
I’ve been trying to become a “morning person” for about three years now. I bought one of those sunrise‑simulation alarm clocks that slowly brightens the room like the sun is trying to give you a gentle hug. You know what my brain does? It treats that gentle hug like a personal insult. It’s like, “Nice try, fake sun, but I know you’re just a lamp with an attitude.”

[Mimic an alarm]
Beep‑beep‑beep.
My first thought every morning is, “Who hurt you, alarm clock? Who hurt you?” Then I hit snooze, and I swear the snooze button is just a tiny, silent scream that says, “Five more minutes of denial, please.”

[Shift]
Now, let’s talk about smartphones. I love my phone. I love it so much that I sometimes forget it’s not a pet. I’ve named mine “Gloria.” Not because it feels like a Gloria—because when it dies, I feel like I’ve abandoned a friend.

[Pause]
The other day I was at a coffee shop, and I saw a couple on a first date. They were both staring at their phones, scrolling, not talking. I thought, “Are they on a date or just two people sharing a Wi‑Fi password?” Then I realized I was doing the exact same thing—except I was also pretending to read the menu while actually watching a video of a dog riding a skateboard.

[Self‑deprecating]
And speaking of videos, I’ve watched exactly 4,000 hours of “how to cook” tutorials. I can now recite the “perfect scrambled eggs” step‑by‑step from memory. Yet, every time I crack an egg, I’m still surprised the yolk doesn’t explode like a tiny sun. It’s like I’m expecting a magic trick every single time.

[Bit about social media]
Social media is a beautiful thing. It lets me keep up with people I haven’t seen in twenty years and silently judge their vacation photos from the comfort my couch. “Oh, you went to Bali? That’s nice. I went to the grocery store and bought a bag of chips that were on sale. #LivingMyBestLife.”

[Pause, then a sigh]
And the algorithm—what a masterpiece. It knows exactly what I want before I even know I want it. The other day it suggested a “self‑care box” full of bath bombs, candles, and a journal. I thought, “Great, now I can feel guilty about not writing in a journal while I soak in a scented bath.”

[Bit about dating apps]
Dating apps are a whole other universe. I swipe right on someone, we match, and then the conversation goes something like:
Me: “Hey, how’s it going?”
Them: “Hey.”
Me: “So, what do you do for fun?”
Them: “I like hiking.”
Me: “Oh, cool. I like hiking too. I once hiked a hill and then I immediately went home and took a nap.”

[Laugh, pause]
It’s like we’re all trying to prove we’re adventurous, but also we want to be in bed by 9 p.m.

[Bit about gym]
And the gym—don’t get me started. I joined a gym because I wanted to “get fit.” The first week, I spent 45 minutes on the treadmill, watching a show about people who run marathons. I felt like I was living a paradox: watching other people work out while I’m technically “working out” by pressing “pause” on the remote.

[Pause, then a grin]
But here’s the thing. All of these little struggles, these everyday absurdities—they’re what make us human. We’re all out here, pretending we have it together, while we’re really just a bunch of confused, coffee‑dependent, phone‑glued, algorithm‑chasing, self‑care‑buying, hiking‑with‑a‑nap‑afterwards people.

[Closing]
So thank you for being here tonight, for laughing with me, and for reminding me that we’re all in this crazy mess together. You’re the best audience a guy with a sunrise lamp and a phone named Gloria could ask for. Goodnight, everybody!

[Exit, waving]